


By a spell

by Aisu_Anna



Category: Le Comte de Monte-Cristo | Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: F/M, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 18:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisu_Anna/pseuds/Aisu_Anna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having to return to France after his travel to Italy, the young baron Franz d’Épinay is faced with a mystery in Paris and start to unravel feelings he didn’t know that was there, kept hidden in the innermost of the count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By a spell

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a retelling starting by the events of the chapter LXXIII.

Leaned on the window sill of a rented coach a young man from time to time was caught sighing. He was leaving Italy and heading to Paris. His expression could possibly be, in his tourist’s condition, the one of a homesick. However, even being that the case, the young man had his brows furrowed in such a way that none will doubt there’s more to that countenance.

Some hours later he was passing by the environs of Fontainebleau, and around ten on the morning the coach stopped in front of a house by the number 27 in the Rue du Helder. He got out the vehicle helped by the coachman, paid for the travel and head to the house. It was the residence of one of his best friends, the viscount Albert de Morcerf.

After announcing himself in the entryway a butler guided him to the parlor of the viscount’s chamber that was located in his own building, aside from the other domains of the count de Morcerf, his father, and from the countess de Morcerf, his mother.

 ‘Franz, it’s so good to see you again. I was eagerly waiting for you day by day since your last letter.’

With a smile Albert approached his friend and reached out his hand for him. Franz returned the gesture.

‘I’ am likewise glad to pay you a visit, my dear friend.’ He said. ‘Italy was starting to lose its beauty without a familiar face; even the countess G has decided to come to Paris.’

The two of them sat comfortably in armchairs that are positioned in front of each other and separated by a coffee table where one can find a teapot, two teacups and some cigars. Albert lightened one, whilst Franz poured himself a cup of tea.

 ‘Indeed.’ Said Albert, breathing out the smoke from the cigar. ‘By the way, one of these days I met her in the Opera. It seems the eccentricities of our friend, the count of Monte Cristo, reached her as well.'

By that mention a shiver spread in Franz’ body.

‘And how is he?’ he interrupted.

‘Who?’

‘Our friend.’

 ‘Very well it seems. I was with him just yesterday.’ Said Albert. ‘And I believe that more than me, the count will love to have you over for a visit’.

 ‘Was he who said that to you?’

‘You too, Franz? Because I’m telling you exactly what the count told me. You know, he really felt a liking for you as soon as he saw you searching for a supper in his island.’

The teacup stopped half a centimeter of the man’s lips.

 ‘And where is he staying?’

 ‘In a great mansion that he bought in the Champs-Elysées in the number 30. We can go there right now if you’re well rested from the travel.’

 ‘Sure.’ He said.

His answer being a mere formality, whilst having his eyes slowly turned to the left, seeming absent-minded, he put the teacup on the table.

Soon thereafter Albert took a leave to give orders to harness the calèche. In the meantime that Franz was left alone, he start to recall some events from his travel.

The count briefly mentioned was acquainted by the two friends in their trip to Dante’s homeland. Whereas to the viscount de Morcerf he resembled to be another aristocrat, only different from the others by having an eccentric temperament; to the baron Franz d’Épinay there was something very peculiar about him.

The first time he saw him was in his domain, if you could call it that way, in the island of Monte Cristo. Franz had stopped by with the intention to hunt as soon as he was told of the famous wild goats that form the fauna of the region. Yet, rather than a humble supper, that was waiting for him in the case of being successful in the hunt, he was humbly invited by a strange man that entitled himself _Sinbad the Sailor_ to enjoy a truly sultan’s feast.

The count’s palace was located in the undergrounds of the isle, in a place of such secrecy that strangers could only enter have being blindfolded first. And not by a whim, understood Franz, it was a necessary rite to step into another world; a supernatural passage between the Western and the Middle East.

The enchantment was instant. The doubts came with time.

Amongst them the unusual way that the count introduced himself, giving Franz a false name. The baron could not make sense of it, but also had not question it; after all, what was left on him of his stay in the marvelous cave of the _Arabian Nights_ was the impression caused by the count, one so similar to Circe’s effect upon Ulysses.

He remembered then his night tour to the Colosseum. He and Albert had decided to visit the touristic place when the center of the arena was illuminated by the moon’s pale lights, said Albert that it was more thrilling in that way, Franz didn’t bother as long as his friend was happy.

There was a time during the tour when the so ever observant eyes of Franz distinguished two suspicious men talking to each other in a distant not so well illuminated corner of the Colosseum. In other circumstances he wouldn’t give so much importance to them, what about being two strangers, but he recognized in one of them the deep and solemn tone of _Sinbad the Sailor_.

His first instinct was to investigate it, with caution he approached the two men, and what wasn’t his surprise to find out that his possible host from before was making deals with a bandit. Until the end of the conversation he stayed quite, without making himself noticed, it was too questionable to make any false moves.

He discovered that they were planning to free one of the prisoners that would be executed in the beginning of the carnival. His possible host, hidden by a long cape, promised to the bandit that would acquire the absolution of his companion and gave him as a guarantee of his success the following sign: in the morning of the first day of carnival look out for three windows at the _Café Rospoli_ , two will be of yellow damask and one will be of white damask with a red cross.

At the dawn of the same day he had complications to sleep, he tried by any means to relate one event to the other, but nothing seemed to make sense. In the end he collapsed on the bed and dreamed.

 _He walks at the night through empty streets in the middle of a wide avenue. There are houses of several sizes and shapes in both sides, but not a single light coming through their windows. He goes on always looking ahead. He starts to hear a sound, a slowly trot of horses coming near, he runs to its direction, but the sound keeps its own space-time. Suddenly the sound comes to a halt, he too stops. In his left side he felts a discomfort in the eyes; he turns his head and sees lights coming out of three windows in a large building. He is in a ball, his attire appropriate for the occasion. He searches for a person in the crowd of unknown faces, all of them colourful, speaking out loud with wide grins. He turns his head to every direction, spins his body in a full circle. Finally he catches sight of a woman. A ray of light covering her, always so stunning, always a nice companion. He greets her, she makes a curtsey stretching her blue dress of fine work. The_ Radetzky March _starts playing, the people arrange themselves in pairs. He guides her, smoothly sliding through all the colours, she smiles, always so gracious. What was her name?_

 _A strong smell of damp soil penetrates the place, a thunder is heard, the floor beneath his feet trembles, one by one the paintings hanged in the walls fall, the glasses whirr and shatter everywhere, everybody continues to dance to the_ March _, singing out loud with wide grins. An intense light forces him to shut his eyes. When he opens them again his dance partner was nowhere to be found, there’s no one there. The dancing room is dark. There is only the sound of raining against the windows._

 _He walks through the empty room. Everything is on place, intact. He stands in the middle of it. A_ Viennese Waltz _starts to play, he doesn’t understand where the music is coming from. He feels someone touching his shoulder, a cold wind blowing on his back, he turns and finds an elegant man all dressed in black attires. The man intertwines their hands, passes his other arm through his waist, with grace pull him closer and they start to dance to the sound of the lugubrious waltz._

_A flash illuminates the man’s face. He startles, the face was pale like a corpse, his hands cold like the ones from a deceased. They keep dancing. He doesn’t want it to stop. The man smiles and kiss his lips. A pang strikes him, he feels his chest slowly warming, he touches it and it’s wet, he looks to his hand, there’s blood, he looks ahead, the man is no longer there._

_Everything starts to spin around him, he collapse on the ground._

The memories made Franz shudder.

 ‘Alright, our vehicle is already waiting for us outside. We can go now.’ Said Albert showing up, minutes later, in the front door with his hat in hands.

The two friends got in the calèche and the pair of horses left in high speed under the coachman’s whip.

Along the way the sighs returned to Franz and more than once he felt the twinge of anticipation give him a knot in his stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a need of this pairing, like in an unbearable one. This and the lack of Franz in the novel were killing me. So to fulfill this need I thought at making an attempt at writing fanfic. I hope it does not disappoint.


End file.
